


13 Hours Till Daybreak

by jewelianna88



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/pseuds/jewelianna88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC's CD release party, but neither of them are focused on the music that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	13 Hours Till Daybreak

**Author's Note:**

> Canon screwed me on this one. The way JC's release party should have been.

5:30 pm

Lance tucked the phone against his ear as he buttoned the sleeves of his shirt. The green print had been a good choice, he thought. It made his eyes look more emerald than pea soup, which was always a plus. Through the phone’s tiny speaker, he heard Justin’s voice asking the caller to “leave a message, yo.” He hadn’t changed his message since sometime in 1999, when it was still if not cool than at least acceptable to use ‘yo’.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Hey, it’s me. The car’s on the way. It’ll be at the front entrance in half an hour, if we’re still going together. See you there at six, or later at the club.”

He hung up and tossed the phone to the bed, then reconsidered and stuck it in his pocket. Everyone he knew would be at the party tonight, but it never hurt to have a phone around. Lance liked to be prepared and never out of touch.

JC’s release party. Lance had flown into New York City on the red eye, arriving at noon and promptly falling asleep in his overly posh hotel room. The phone hadn’t rung at all, even though Justin had promised to call when he got in.

He sighed, and tugged on his cuffs some more.

They were all in town for the release party. Lance had spent the past few months flittering around the country visiting friends, never in one place for

He’d been in Chicago for a while. He’d stopped in at Chris’s place, and saw the invitation to the Grammy’s propped up on the mantle. There was one filed away at his house in Los Angeles too.

“Are you going?” Lance had asked.

“I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t know what I’d do if he won. Or if he didn’t win. You know, when I started this, I was so not into awards. I could care less really, as long as I had a paycheck to send home. But now. I just think it’d be easier to be happy for him if I wasn’t there.”

Lance hadn’t gone either. He’d watched it on TV and sent Justin a congratulations card with a monkey on it.

He could have gone, but he’d thought Justin would have Cameron and that would have been awkward all around. Generally, when Justin and Lance weren’t together, they avoided each other’s partners. If JC had known earlier that he was going, Lance would have gone with him, but that was one big mess of spontaneity and last minute changes, so Lance just stayed out of the way.

Justin wasn’t bringing Cameron tonight, either, which made Lance overly happy. His clippings service had sent on all of the latest pictures of Justin’s hickies. Tacky, he thought, marking her territory. She might as well piss a circle around him. Lance hoped the bruises had faded so he wouldn’t have to look at them.

The thing between him and Justin was complicated, in the way all close relationships can get when you add in random bouts of casual and not-so-casual sex. They would be together for a while, then not. Justin would find a new girlfriend, and Lance would find a new boyfriend. Jessie was cute enough, all dark eyes and silky hair. Lance never slept with blondes except Justin and Justin didn’t sleep with any man but Lance. It was fucked up, but when it was on, it was the best thing ever.

The phone rang in Lance’s pocket, announcing the arrival of the car. Grabbing his wallet and hotel keycard, Lance did a final check of the room and left. The elevator was playing “This I Promise You,” the instrumental version, and Lance hummed along on the way down, remembering the way Justin would catch his eye when they sang it in concert sometimes. There was a shiver in his spine when the doors opened, but he shook it off as he walked through the ornate lobby to the black SUV outside.

**

6:30 pm

Traffic was a bitch, especially in New York City during rush hour.

Justin had tried everything he could think of to get out of JC’s release party, but not a single excuse he fed to his friends had worked. Even his mother was planning to attend, so he was pretty much sunk all around.

When he was younger, his mother had told him that there may come a point where it all seemed to be too much, that everything might come crashing down around him someday. He’d brushed it off with youthful exuberance and forgotten. He shouldn’t have. For a week he couldn’t turn on the television without seeing his face on every channel. Not even ESPN was sacred. This was ten times worse than when he’d broken up with Britney, and he’d thought that was the worst it could get. He couldn’t even hide, because it was the same week as the Grammy’s, and he knew he had a really good shot at earning at least one award and he didn’t want them to take that away from him.

Now, trophy perched on his dresser so it was the first thing he saw in the morning and last thing he saw at night, he’d spent a week and a half as a recluse, avoiding all of the cameras and questions that bombarded him with every step outside his front gate.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to support JC’s record. He thought it was a great album. He’d been pushing JC to release it since August. He was glad it was finally out for the rest of the world to hear. It was different from Justin’s usual music choices, more rock and 80s than his typical hip hop, but he had to admit some of the lyrics were damn good. Better than his, in some cases. So he wanted to be there to show support for JC, who had shown up when none of his other friends had two weeks earlier, possibly when he’d needed them more than ever before. That stung, some, he admitted.

But the release party was bound to have cameras and media, and he didn’t want to draw the attention away from JC. He didn’t want anything about that night to be anything other than JC and Schizophrenic. Unfortunately, no one else had understood that, so here he was in New York, getting ready to go to a party.

They probably could have walked to the club faster than the car had moved, and then Justin wouldn’t be trapped in a tight space with Lance. The silence was deafening, and saddening. There was a time when you could never shut the two of them up, unless they were locked at the lips.

“Joey and Kel are gonna be there, right?” Justin asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Yup.”

“Have you seen Leighton lately?” Lance’s niece was always a nice, safe topic of conversation.

“About a month ago, when I was home for a few days. She’s a doll.” Lance was fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. He looked really hot, Justin thought. His hair was a little darker than it used to be, which suited him. For a moment, Justin remembered the day Lance had shown up with it lightened again after shooting On The Line. They’d been down in Florida doing tour rehearsals for Pop Odyssey, and fooled around under the cube stage when everyone else was at lunch. Lance’s hair looked a little like that now.

The radio was playing top 40, but Justin turned it off when Kelis came on. “Sorry. I hate that song.”

Finally, a genuine smile from Lance. “Me too.”

Traffic broke at the same time as the tension in the car, and they eased into casual conversation about music and how much it sucked lately. Justin thought it might have been a dig about getting back into the studio together, but he let it slide. Summer was the plan, and he was sticking to it. Lance liked to think he could persuade Justin to do whatever he wanted, but it only worked when Justin was in a giving mood.

The side street that the club was on was blocked off to general traffic, so they waited while security cleared the vehicle and waved them through. Justin’s stomach tightened and twisted when he saw the press, like someone was trying to stir his insides with a big wooden spoon. They were lined up across from a short red carpet and a wall decorated with white Tyvec. It was printed with slogans for Jive and Coors. JC was the perfect Coors spokesman, the metrosexual exterior with the lyrics of a frat boy.

“Hey,” Lance said, laying a warm hand over Justin’s clammy one. “You OK?”

“They’ve turned on me,” he said. “Just wait and see. I’m the scapegoat now, everything wrong in the world is my fucking fault.”

Lance squeezed his hand, and Justin felt a ripple go up his arm, as if Lance was sending him strength through their joined fingers. “Don’t let them get to you,” he said, with a serious look on his face. Justin nodded.

The door opened and the barrage began.

**

7:30 pm

Lance had never seen Justin so shaken, as he walked through the line of media to the big double doors. The club was still almost completely empty, but enough people were there for a quiet hum of conversations. He had a beer in one hand, with his other wrapped around Justin’s mom’s shoulders in a quick hug. He loved Lynn like his own mother, even if he didn’t always agree with her fashion choices. There was way too much cleavage there for a mom to be showing, especially the mom of someone he’d fucked on many occasions.

“You like the dress?” she asked, and Lance put on his best media smile.

“It’s gorgeous,” he said, and she laughed.

“You may be a good liar, but you never could fool me. Where’s my boy?” He voice dripped with sweet honey of Tennessee, standing out among the New York brash.

“He got caught up in the circus outside. He’ll be in soon.”

Lynn patted his cheek and left him to greet someone else. Alone, Lance surveyed the room. Only close friends were here this early. The names and faces most of the world knew wouldn’t arrive until later, which was fine with him. Tonight wasn’t about schmoozing, it was about celebration.

JC was on stage, singing Everything You Want with his band. There were no dancers, Lance noted with relief. Lance didn’t really like it when JC pretended he was a pimp with his girls. He looked much better alone with a microphone. Only JC would insist on giving a concert for all his guests at his own release party. He had told Lance that he wanted to make sure the night was about music, not free booze.

“He looks great, doesn’t he?”

Lance turned around to see Justin right behind him, so close that Lance had to take a step away just to see him fully. “Yeah, he’s amazing.”

“There’s nothing quite like that, being up there, knowing everyone’s looking at you.” Justin looked wistful and Lance allowed himself a moment to imagine it. Generally, it just gave him goose bumps and a case of stage fright he hadn’t had since the 8th grade talent show. Tonight, he could imagine it from Justin’s and JC’s perspectives, and maybe see the allure of the solo stage.

Justin smelled like thousand dollar cologne and Listerine, and Lance breathed deeply when Justin reached past him to snag a glass of champagne from the counter. Justin seemed to notice, cocking his head to stare at Lance curiously, and for a second Lance thought maybe Justin might know what he was thinking. It was a terrifying moment, thankfully ended when Joey arrived with a boisterous laugh and hugs for everyone in the room.

As more and more people filed in, Lance lost track of Justin in the crowd. He kept one eye on JC, who was off the stage for a while talking to his family. Joey had parked himself at Lance’s side and was talking about wedding plans and such.

“What?” Lance asked, distracted.

“Bachelor party. Two days before the wedding. Steve’s in charge, will you help him, please?” Joey’s eyes were pleading, and Lance sighed. Steve would have great intentions, but his checkbook and influence ran a little short of Joey’s expectations.

“Sure. Just let me know what you want, OK?”

Kelly, who had tucked herself under Joey’s arm, pointed a finger at her fiance’s best friend. “No strippers, Bass.” Behind her, Joey was mouthing ‘ignore her!’, and Lance just smiled at both of them.

It was clear after half an hour that his heart wasn’t in the party. He kept to the edges, nursing his drink, wondering when the hell the world started seeming so very unreal.

**

8:30 pm

Justin blinked as the flash went off, scowling at the AP photographer who’d been lucky enough to win a press pass inside the party. He’d been in Justin’s face all night.

‘Dude, it’s JC’s party. Why don’t you take pictures of him?” Justin asked with a frown. His head was starting to hurt, and he was already sick of small talk.

“Just giving people what they want, Mr. Timberlake. Your face sells magazines, I take pictures of you. You understand.”

Justin did understand, all too well. JC was on stage again, singing Mercy, which Justin loved more than anything else on the album. I need mercy, he thought, someone please have mercy on me and get this guy out of my face.

He wrangled Tara in a corner for a while and talked to her. She was a sweet girl, one of JC’s friends who he actually liked and understood a little bit. The music guys JC hung out with were a little weird at times, but Tara could talk about good movies or the new clubs in LA like Justin was a normal guy.

“He looks great up there,” she said, sipping a Cosmopolitan that matched her cherry pink halter top and the sparkly headband in her hair.

Justin nodded in agreement, eyes traveling to JC on the stage.

“Is Cameron here?” she asked, eyebrows puckering when Justin shook his head negatively. “You guys OK?”

He shrugged. “She’s a little pissed, you know. The whole thing was supposed to be good for both our careers. She doesn’t want to be the girl dating the guy who rips off women’s clothes.”

Tara made sympathetic noises and patted him on the shoulder. She’d done the celebrity relationship thing before, she knew. Justin appreciated some sincere empathy for a change.

Head pounding from the rush of alcohol he’d downed on an empty stomach, Justin made excuses and ducked out of the room. The T-shirt he’d picked out earlier was suddenly too hot under his suit jacket, and he ripped off the coat as he walked, storming into some back room where he could just get away.

Justin found a door with nothing but darkness behind it and walked through. He dropped to the floor against the wall and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He hadn’t even seen JC yet, hadn’t told him how proud he was. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, and he was already ready to go. It was going to be the longest night in the world.

The room was suddenly flooded with light, and Justin blinked as his eyes adjusted. Sitting across from him on a box was Lance, shirt sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up his arms.

“You too?” he asked, sliding down to the floor with Justin, curling one leg under the other. His thighs pressed against his acid treated jeans, denim molding to strong muscles beneath. Justin sucked in a breath and held it as long as he could before breathing out slowly between his teeth.

“I didn’t want to do this tonight,” Justin said, shifting to get more comfortable.

“I know.”

“I just wanted to lay low for a while. Sleep. Stop flying across the country every other day.”

Lance bobbed his head in a nod, big green eyes focused on Justin’s expression. Justin tried to remain steady, but he ended up closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall with a ‘thud.”

“It wasn’t supposed to get this hard,” he said.

**

9:30 pm

“My bedroom opens onto a view of the ocean. It’s a private beach. I mean, it’s shared with the people on the street, but no one else. So I’ve got this great balcony that’s like, huge, and I can sit out there and eat breakfast every morning.” Lance smiled at Justin, telling him about his new home.

Justin looked a little better as they sat on the floor of the storeroom and talked. Lance was sure there were people looking for them out at the party. He could hear the music pounding through the floor from the main room below.

“You’ll have to have a party, you know, so I can come down and check it out.”

“You can come anytime,” Lance said, and he meant it. Sometimes, when they were apart, he could get so frustrated and annoyed with Justin’s mere existence. When they were together, though, he was reminded of the boy he’d grown up with, the man who was his friend, not just the guy in US Weekly and Access Hollywood. He rubbed at his neck as he watched Justin shift uncomfortably across the room. “You sore?” Lance asked.

“Mmm, just a cramp.” Justin stretched his leg out in front of him. Lance pulled it into his lap and began to rub. Justin had chicken legs, always had, skinny little twigs with knobby knees and lean muscles. Lance snuck a hand under the baggy material of Justin’s pants and began to rub his calf.

“Oh, god, that feels good. Those Russian ladies taught you well.” Lance had demonstrated his newly-learned techniques on Justin when they’d met up in London a few years ago. When they were in London a few days ago, for the Brit awards, they hadn’t had the chance to relive the experience. There had been too many reporters that time, and too much talking about girlfriends and boyfriends past and future. Lance thought things had been resolved.

The way Justin’s skin felt so warm and comforting under his hands was a strong indication that he’d thought wrong.

“JC’s gonna kill me,” Justin said, inching closer to Lance. Lance’s hand slid up to his knee, before being stopped by the material. He felt Justin’s skin quivering beneath his touch. He always marveled that he had that effect on Justin, that this amazingly talented, beautiful man would shiver from his touch. If the trophies and sales records and sold out tours never made him feel important again, his effect on Justin always would.

“Why?” Lance asked, slowing his massages to simple caresses, brushing the hair on Justin’s leg one way then the other. He kept his other hand clenched in his lap, though it itched to feel Justin’s cheek and the rough stubble that adorned it.

Justin’s voice was light and happy, a drastic changed from an hour earlier. “Because I’m missing his party.”

“He’ll recover.” Lance smiled at Justin. “He gets it. No matter how far apart we become, we still know each other better than anyone, you know? We all know what’s been going on with you. We understand. I understand,” he added, focusing on Justin’s face. He watched as the gratefulness crept into his eyes.

Jusitn’s lips on his were not a shock so much as a jolt, a surge of electricity that ripped through his body from mouth to head to heart. He moaned, and Justin took the opportunity to slip a tongue between his lips. Lance met it with his own, licking at Justin’s silky lips and smooth teeth, mind reeling from just how good this felt.

“Hey,” he gasped, pulling away only to have Justin kiss lower, licking at his Adam’s apple. “I thought we weren’t doing this anymore.”

“You want to stop?” Justin asked breathily, his voice unusually high and soft. His mouth closed over Lance’s again in another kiss.

“No,” Lance said. “God, no.”

“Good.” Justin’s kisses were dizzying and Lance felt himself going under, drowning in the sensation.

**

10:30 pm

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Justin gasped, tugging at the button on Lance’s jeans. He got them as far as his ankles, where they tangled in Lance’s boots. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Get out of these.”

“You too,” Lance whispered, then nipped at Justin’s earlobe, tugging on the earring there. Lance tasted like liquid gold, if that was possible, salty and smooth on his tongue as he lapped at the skin on Lance’s neck.

Justin groaned, and stripped.

**

11:30 pm

“What if someone comes in,” Justin asked as Lance fumbled in his wallet for a condom. He hadn’t taken his time with sex in ages, and it felt so damn right to drag this out, make it last.

“Lock the door,” Lance said. Justin reached behind him and twisted the silver knob until it clicked.

“Better?” Justin nodded and licked a line across Lance’s shoulder blades.

“Good,” Lance said, and pulled Justin up onto his lap. Skin on skin, and Lance felt his blood race faster though his veins. No one made him feel like Justin did, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. It was a damn shame they didn’t do this more often.

**

12:30 am

“We should go back out there,” Lance said. The tiny room reeked of sweat and sex. Their clothes were piled in the corner, surely a wrinkled heap by now.

“Probably,” Justin said, “but I don’t want to.” Justin kissed the tattoo on Lance’s back, the big black bull and little green clef in the middle. It was so perfectly Lance.

Justin reached for his boxers, which were tossed haphazardly up onto one of the shelves. Standing, he slipped them on, then began sorting through the rest of their clothes. This was the worst part, the morning after part, where they had to find things to say to each other. This is where they always messed things up, and Justin swore that this time would be different, if for no other reason than he didn’t want to have anything else to deal with tonight.

They opened the door together, listening carefully for sounds in the hall. The only noise was the steady beat of JC’s song from downstairs. “All day long I dream about sex,” Lance sang in Justin’s ear, laughing as they bumped shoulders in the corridor.

“With you,” Justin replied, smacking a kiss on Lance’s cheek.

Back in the party, Justin fought to keep the smile off of his face. Chris cornered him almost immediately, and smirked at him, knowing that look.

“And where have you been?” he asked, poking at Justin’s chest.

“Hey!,” Justin cried, ducking away. ‘That hurts, dude!”

“You look like you just got laid,” Chris said. Justin blushed and watched Chris’s eyes grow wide. “Seriously? You and who? Don’t tell me it was Senior Bass.”

“Would you keep it down?”

“Christ, J, you really are clueless. He’s got a boyfriend, you know. A really hot one.”

“And I’ve got a girlfriend,” Justin said, though the words nearly made him wince. Cameron was three thousand miles away and Justin hadn’t thought of her at all. It was heading for the end, he knew, but he didn’t have the energy to stop the impending train wreck.

“Just be careful, is all.” Chris patted Justin on the shoulder. “And smile, cause one of the camera fucks is coming over.”

He posed, smiling, but as soon as he could break away, he went out searching for JC.

He found him with Lance, of course.

JC draped an arm around his shoulders, grinning so big he was nothing but nose and teeth. It was his night, and he was so happy. Justin smiled with him.

“You gonna write us some great songs about sex for the next album?” Justin asked teasingly, watching Lance laugh over JC’s shoulder.

“Yeah, dude! Though we gotta be careful, cause you know. Five guys singing about sex could sound like one big gay orgy, and that would be a little harder to sell.”

Justin laughed as Lance’s face grew white, remembering how Lance had writhed under his hands less than an hour earlier. “Relax, Lance. He’d kidding.” Justin smiled, and couldn’t help but add “He’d write us songs about masturbation.”

**

1:30 am

The place was really going after one, and looked to stay that way all night long. JC was off the stage for a while, dancing through the crowds to the techno beats of BT and Basement Jaxx. Lance could feel them throbbing in his chest as he danced with one of JC’s backup girls. She was tiny and had a high pitched laugh that cut right through him, but her hips moved like pistons and her hair flew as she moved, which was enough for now. There were so many people in the room that the heat was overwhelming. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck, sending a shiver all the way down his spine.

Joey had Kelly held close, and Lance watched them for a moment. Joey whispered something in her ear that made her lean back and kiss his lips, quick and light. There was a light in Joey’s eyes that Lance hadn’t seen since Joey was 19 and running around Europe. Of all the people that Lance knew, Joey deserved to be happy more than anyone, except maybe Chris, who was happy in his own weird way. Punk music and Miami were agreeing with him.

There were maybe five hundred people at the party, but every time Lance’s eyes scanned the room they found Justin. He’d turn around and still, it seemed like Justin was following his line of site. Lance didn’t know what to do, his mind and body were still reeling from the backroom fuck. In London, they’d said they were going to stop. It was too much, too complicated, too weird when they were both dating other people.

They’d made that decision a dozen times before, but it had never been able stick long. Lance didn’t know why it seemed different this time. Maybe it was the sense of loss in Justin’s eyes that had been there since the Superbowl fiasco. Maybe it was the growing distance between Lance and Jessie, the boyfriend-of-the-moment who Lance didn’t love at all, but liked an awful lot as a friend. This would screw with that, he figured, and that sucked a whole lot.

Out of the blue, Britney tapped Lance on the shoulder and held his arms open for a hug. “Lance! It’s been ages, honey,” Britney said grasping Lance more tightly than he’d expected.

“Hey there, baby girl. How’s my favorite belle?” Britney had been like a little sister to all of them for the longest time. “Does J know you’re here?” he asked, and she scowled.

“Why is that the first thing that everybody asks? Yeah, he saw me come in and did the little head bob of acknowledgement.” She leaned him close and kissed his cheek. “You smell like him.”

Lance noticed the fuming faces that his dance partner was making and spun around away from her before the catfight could break out. Those headlines would not be kind. He chose to ignore Britney’s comment.

“Aww, what’re you doing baby? You know you two were never good for each other.” She wound her arms around his neck and began to dance, closer than JC’s friend had dared to get. Lance had no choice but to grab her hips and grind along. No one ever danced like Britney, and the fact that she’d taught him how to club dance like this was probably a good part of why he hated straight clubs. There just wasn’t anyone who could measure up to her.

“It’s just a thing,” Lance said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“You know me and him, we’ve got our issues. But he’s a good guy, deep down. So are you. But you never did work together, you know that. Hell, he came crying to me about it enough times.” Her hair brushed against his hands as she leaned back, and the silky strands tickled his fingers. Britney was a good girl, he thought, and it just wasn’t fair that she had such a hard life.

“He’s the only person I’ve never been able to walk away from,” Lance said. It was just that simple. She looked at him with those big brown eyes, and there was sympathy there, behind the reflection of the flashing lights.

“I know, baby,” was all she said, pulling him closer to dance some more.

**

2:30 am

Justin got cornered by Paris Hilton, of all people, and scanned the crowd helplessly, looking for an out as she rambled. She was going on and on about how great Nick was, how great the Backstreet album was going to be, how great her album was going to be. She kept dropping hints about Justin helping her with it and he just wanted out. Now. Before he said something about video tapes and bedroom activities.

Joey provided the perfect escape, and Justin all but ran when he saw him, jumping onto his back, yelling out as Joey grabbed his legs and spun. The room swam before him a sea of colored lights and blurred faces before he was dropped to his feet again.

“Damn, you’re light. You weigh about as much as my kid. Eat!” Joey demanded, and Justin laughed the way only his older brother could make him.

“I’m eating, I swear it. I’ve gained eight pounds since the tour ended.”

“You need about twenty more just to look human again,” Joey commented, but there was concern in his voice, and Justin loved him for it.

“Where’s your woman?”

“Ladies room,” Joey said, with a roll of his eyes. Justin laughed.

“Women.”

“You know it. You want a drink?” Joey asked, passing Justin a glass of something dark and strong. Justin gulped it down, gasping as it burned. It lit his throat like a match to turpentine. He coughed, and Joey helpfully clapped him on the back.

“That’s a lot stronger than the light beer crap you drink.”

Justin nodded, eyes swimming. “You’re trying to kill me. You just want the solos on the next album, and it will be easier if you burn off my vocal chords.”

Joey laughed, big and happy. “I can always count on you to spoil my plans. Seriously, though, how are you?”

“Seriously, I’m fine. I’m good, I am. C’s got his album, the party’s a hit, and--“

“Lance fucked you in the back room.” Joey finished.

“Jesus, Joe. Announce it to the world, why don’t you.”

“J, there’s nobody here who’s either sober enough to remember in the morning or hasn’t heard it before. Trust me.”

“Just, keep it down.” All he needed was more media attention, just when they’d started to leave him alone.

“You know, if you two got your heads out of your asses, it might be a good thing, you guys together.” Joey’s hands were all over the place as he talked, something he only did when he was pretty drunk. He also couldn’t lie for shit while drinking, so Justin figured he was telling it straight.

“I don’t know, man, we’ll see.” It was a cop out answer, but all he felt like giving as his stomach churned and the alcohol raced into his blood. The room’s lights were dancing over people’s heads so prettily, he couldn’t help but disappear into the crowd and join them, jumping up and down with a smile.

**

3:30 am

Lance was sniffling after JC’s brother and sister got up on stage to give a toast. They were so fucking sweet, and he’d had just enough alcohol that it made him teary listening to them praise their big brother for all of his accomplishments. He stood at the front of the crowd, watching as JC hopped up on the stage and wrapped Tyler and Heather in a massive hug.

An arm snaked around his own shoulders, and Lance turned to see Justin there, leaning on him, warm against his side. Lance smiled at him, and watched as Justin’s own lips curled in a shiny white grin. There were shadows of fatigue under Justin’s eyes, but he looked happy.

“They’re closing the place down,” he said. “Are you gonna be stepping out with me?”

Lance’s heart jumped at Justin’s offer. He couldn’t say anything but yes.

Justin wasn’t the best fuck Lance had ever had. No, that title went to Mike, the flight attendant for the charter service he and Joey had used while flying back and forth from Toronto while filming On The Line. Mike had skills that none of Lance’s conquests had ever been able to master, even Justin. But there was something about Justin that made Lance’s body react differently, something that set all of his nerves on high alert and made them respond more to even a simple caress.

The back of the car was dark, and Lance couldn’t see Justin’s face, only feel rough cheeks beneath his fingers and soft lips pressed against his own. Justin may not have been the best sex ever, but he could kiss by the book, by the entire New York Times’ Best Seller list. Lance’s lips were wet and slipped out of control with Justin’s, sliding this way and that, opening and closing in random patterns.

Justin’s hotel room was three floors above Lance’s, and it wasn’t a room so much as a penthouse suite. The kind of place they used to stay when it was the whole band traveling together. Lance didn’t look around, though, because he was too busy kicking off his shoes and whipping his shirt over his head. Justin was two steps ahead of him, naked before they crossed the threshold to the master bathroom. His naked ass wiggled when he walked, the best invitation Lance had ever seen.

**

4:30 am

Justin collapsed to the bed, breathing hard. Lance’s arm was pressed against his side, their arms twisted together. Justin’s heart was beating a mile a minute. He could feel it pounding against his breastbone, thundering out in its incessant tempo.

“Damn,” Lance groaned, rolling so he was half over Justin’s body. Justin could feel stickiness spread across the back of his arm, but he was too wiped to care. They’d shower later, he was sure.

“Will you be here in the morning?” Justin asked, sleepiness already crowding into his voice.

“Mmmm,” Lance groaned.

There were other things Justin wanted to stay, but for now, that would do.

**

5:30 am

Lance blinked at the red glow from the alarm clock. He never could sleep unless it was completely dark, even though it couldn’t have been more than an hour since he crashed. His skin was itchy with dried sweat and other things.

Climbing from bed, Lance stumbled into the posh bathroom and fiddled with the handles until warm water began to rain down from the overhead shower. Climbing in, he tipped his head back, lifting his face to the rain.

He didn’t know what he was doing. Justin was there, in bed, and he was sneaking out like he always did. The reason they’d never worked was that neither of them could ever deal with life outside the bed room. It was bizarre, because they were such great friends when they weren’t fucking, they should be even closer with all the sex involved.

Lance took his time in the shower, mulling over how he’d ended up there. He scrubbed the vanilla soap over his shoulders, hoping it wouldn’t dry out his skin, wondering if Justin had used the same bar earlier that night. The domesticity of sharing a shower brought back memories of days on buses, bouncing from city to city together. He hoped they got back to it soon.

Cool air across his back, then Justin was there, stepping in behind him. Lance leaned back and let Justin take the washcloth from his hands. It felt good to have someone caring for him, making swirls of suds across his chest.

“You should get more sleep,” Justin whispered, barely audible above the sound of the shower.

“You too.”

“You weren’t there.” Justin smiled at him, just a hint of a grin. It made Lance’s knees quiver a bit.

“I’m flying back to LA in a few hours,” Lance said. “I can sleep on the plane.”

“Cancel it,” Justin said. “Fly back with me, on my plane.” He bent to kiss Lance, one hand anchoring Lance’s head from behind. Lance stayed still and let him.

“Are we doing this again?” Lance asked. “I mean, we said we weren’t doing it.”

“Things have changed. Priorities shifted.” Justin’s eyes were pleading. “Come back with me.”

Lance couldn’t refuse.

**

6:30 am

“Do you really have your own beach?” Justin asked as they munched on fruit and bagels in bed. Outside, the first rays of sunlight were breaking through the clouds. It was going to be a beautiful day.

“Mmmm.” Lance swallowed before answering. “Yeah, like I said, shared with a couple other people, but mostly mine.”

“Cause I was thinking you might like some company. You know, for a while. We’ll see how things go.” Justin really hoped that Lance wouldn’t say no. It had taken him all night to work up the courage to ask.

“Are you asking if you can come stay with me?” Lance’s voice was husky and low, the way it always got when he didn’t get enough sleep. Justin’s only answer was a nod. “OK.”

“OK?” Justin grinned and stole a strawberry from Lance’s fingers. “I think this might be the right time, you know?” As much as he had hated stepping back from the spotlight, it had given him some clarity he needed. Nothing felt as good as Lance, and Justin couldn’t find a reason to settle for second best. It was that simple.

“OK.” Lance grinned at him, and Justin laughed. It was a new day.

END


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